Poem #1
22 months ago
Watchers
Bits of you and me and others from ages past
Gathering, floating, flying, scattering,
frosting the tops of shelves.
resting in gray masses in between the floor boards
whispering warnings under the rug.
Watching, waiting, seeing everything we do when we think we are alone…
Communally hanging on the webs of spiders
Praying for a gust…..just one
They dance on the breeze when we shut the heaviest of books.
Those watchers keep us connected to the days,
days when things were mysterious and new.
Even now they try to fill us with the memories
when we take a deep breath.
Someday we will join them unknowingly
in the dust.
